please leave your message at the sound of the beep
by hulklinging
Summary: Teddy and Billy and embarrassing childhood things.


Teddy always called Billy's cellphone. He had his boyfriend's home number, but even after he had met Jeff and Rebecca, calling and having one of them pick up was a terrifying notion. Anyway, Billy was pretty good at remembering to pick up when it was Teddy.

Okay, he picked up maybe fifty percent of the time. But that was at least ten percent above the national average, so Teddy'll take it.

Except today Billy's phone is going straight to voicemail, and Teddy can't remember if they're going out for dinner with Kate tonight or next week, and he is also trying to buy some groceries on his way home, and he really doesn't want to guess at what they need when there's a list right on the fridge. He probably forgot to charge his phone. Again.

"Dammit, Billy," Teddy whines, knowing his annoyance is silly but still feeling it. Then he sighs, and selects Billy's home number. The line rings once, twice, three times. And then it goes to voicemail.

"Hello!" A young child's voice comes through the line, and Teddy frowns in confusion before he clues in. Answering machine. Right. But who was…?

"You've reached the Kaplans! That's me, Mom and Dad!" There's a muffled voice in the background, and the kid, who Teddy realizes must be Billy, gasps. "Oh yeah! I mean, this is Billy! And Rebecca and Jeff! We're not home! When you hear a 'beeeeeep', say hello and leave a message!" There's a beat, but then instead of the tone, there's Billy again, quieter, like he's moved away from the machine.

"Did I do good, Mom?" he wants to know. Her answer is interupted by a beep, and Teddy is a little slow on the hangup. Great. Now the Kaplans are gonna have a weird hangup message. Oops.

How old must Billy be, in that recording? Seven, eight? Young. Teddy can't help but smile. He sounds so little. How cute is that?

He texts Kate. They have their dinner next week. He grabs a few things from the market, erring on the side of caution for now. He walks into the apartment humming, and finds Billy in the kitchen, staring blankly at the fridge.

"Waiting for something to grow?" Teddy asks, as he puts his groceries on the counter and starts to put them down. Billy's still too groggy to even shoot him an eyeroll. He just takes a step closer to the fridge. Honestly, he looks like he's concidering crawling in. Teddy grabs his arm and gently pushes him towards the kitchen table. "You sit. I'll make brunch."

Brunch is a kind word for it, but Billy was up really late the night before. Something about a psych essay being due. The least he can do is make his boyfriend a coffee and some eggy cheesy mess. Teddy gets to work while Billy naps at the table.

"Hey, Teddy…" Billy asks, from underneath his improvised arm pillow. "Did you call me? My phone was dead."

Teddy nods. "Yeah, it's okay. I called the house phone, too. Sorry, did I wake you up?"

There's a long silence.

"There was no one else home this morning."

"No," Teddy says mildly. "There wasn't."

"Oh god," Billy whispers. "You heard the message."

Teddy's smile grows into something that can really only be descriped as 'shit eating'. "I can't believe you were holding out on me."

Billy whines. "They won't let me delete it. It's over ten years old. Who does this? It's cruel and unusual. It's inhumane, really. There must be laws against this sort of… disregard for… dignity, and stuff."

Teddy puts the food in front of him, and for someone who seemed so invested in dignity and rights a moment before, he seems to forget pretty quickly when faced with caffeine.

"I thought you sounded very well spoken, for an eight year old. If it counts for anything."

Billy lets his head drop back down on the table. "Are you kidding," he mumbles into the wood of their table. "Nothing counts for anything. These are children we're talking about."

Teddy laughs, and takes a bite out of Billy's omelet, even though his own is cooking on the stove. "You sound so cute. What happened?"

Billy throws a sock at him. Teddy isn't quite sure where the sock came from, but he knows a declaration of war when he sees one.

The Kaplans return to find a half eaten 'brunch' strewn across the table, and the two boys, red faced and still chuckling, pouring over some old photo albums. One is a Kaplan photo album, and the other is unfamiliar, clutched carefully in Teddy's hands. They've reached a compromise, it seems. There are socks everywhere. Rebecca can't help but smile, and hold up her phone to take a picture. One for the newest album, she thinks, and leaves the boys to it.


End file.
